Chapter 3
Many Meetings…
The Turks were feared by nearly every sensible person in the civilized world. The sight of the Turk uniform was enough to ward away every living, thinking creature in an 11.57-foot diameter. (Reno had once exaggerated it to be 20; Elena insisted that it couldn't be that much over 10. Of course Reno had bet on it.) They were stealthy, calculating, efficient, cold-blooded killers; they were loyal to none but the president and vice president of ShinRa; if they were on your tail, they would never stop hunting you until you were dead. This was the image painted of the so-called ShinRa Department of Administrative Research, and it was this image that even the president believed.
Of course, those who actually knew the Turks (which, outside of the organization itself, included only Rufus Shinra) knew that while cold-bloodedness was part of the job description, stealth, calculation, and efficiency were traits imparted on only half the Turk population, and that the only reason the other half had made it was because they were really good at blowing shit up. (There was a reason the Turks worked in pre-picked-out pairs, after all.) People that knew the Turks knew that the uniform was only for show, and that certain Turks preferred to have on no clothes at all. People that knew the Turks knew that while they were chosen for their exceptional skills in espionage and assassination, the best Turks were all plum-fucking-nuts. In fact, they were arguably the most plum-fucking-nuts group of creatures ever to walk the face of Gaia.
However, despite all the flaws in the organization, no one, not even those that knew them, could doubt their loyalty. So when president and vice president, father and son, decide to verbally duke it out behind closed doors, it left the Turks in a mess.
Elena, being Elena, was the most visibly anxious. "What do we do, what do we do, what do we do…" she muttered over and over, pacing back and forth across their 105.14 square feet of cleared area in their corner of the tavern.
Tseng was a patient man (he had to be, with the job he had), but, as with all patient men, there was an end to his patience. "Elena, stop. Your incessant worrying will do nothing."
"Yeah, 'lena!" called Reno loudly and drunkenly. "Relax, yo!" Reno was actually just as anxious as his female compatriot, but showed it only by downing copious amounts of beer.
Elena worshipped Tseng's advice and considered his orders the will of God, but any word from Reno, a drunken Reno especially, was the spawn of the devil and therefore negated the effect of the previous. So, instead of calming down, she decided to find a more constructive outlet for her anxiety. Namely, abusing aforementioned red-headed Turk. "I don't see why you're even in this organization! Can you do anything but relax?"
"I sure can beat your ass, yo!"
"Oh, it is so on, you brainless little –"
Tseng sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He was very tempted to follow Reno's example and start drowning himself in liquor. Rude looked up from the hole he was burning in a table with his eyes to glance at the two "blow-shit-up" members of the team. Finding Reno in a headlock, courtesy of Elena, he grunted once and looked back down.
Yes, a Shinra family feud left the Turks in a big mess.
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Meanwhile, as the Turks alternated between brooding and brawling, the young company heir sat as still as he could while his physician finished splinting his wrist.
"Now, how did you say this happened again, young master?" The doctor prodded the limb experimentally a few times."There was ice on the porch steps," Rufus lied without missing a beat. "I lost my footing and slipped."
The doctor frowned skeptically, but shrugged it off. "If you say so, young master. You'll want to take it easy with that arm for a while. Don't swing it around too much, don't put pressure on it, and do be careful on those porch steps of yours."
Rufus gave him a charming smile and nodded as he muttered his thanks and swept out the door, but instead of heading into town toward his own home, he turned toward the lone house on the outskirts.
The door swung open with a bang before he even knocked, and he looked up into the angry face of Cid Highwind.
"Shinra? The hell're you –?"
"Where's Yuffie?"
The pilot glared at him suspiciously. "Why'd you wanna know anyway? Not still tryin' to hook up with 'er, are ya?"
Rufus shook his head. "She and I, we have a…mutual agreement. Could I…speak with her, perhaps?"
Cid glared again and stomped back inside. "I'd let ya, if she wasn't locked up by some crazy demon! Get in here and have a fuckin' cup o' tea!"
The man, Rufus thought, was surely delusional. What was that nonsense about a demon? But he took his seat at the table and politely accepted the steaming cup.
The pilot said nothing for a long while, accept to mutter angrily under his breath, stomping around the kitchen and yanking open cupboards. When, at last, he had shattered his fourth teacup, the vice president felt it would be best to speak.
"So, where is Yuffie? You mentioned a…demon?"
Far from calming the man, the question seemed to further incite his anger. He slammed a drawer of knives shut, making the cutlery rattle. "Yeah, that's what I said. This crazy guy with bat-wings locked 'er up!"
Well, that clarified nothing. Rufus tried his best to calm him down.
"Mr. Highwind–"
He snorted. "Just call me Cid. Mr. Highwind makes me sound old."
Rufus nodded and continued. "Yes, well, Cid, I think you'd best start from the beginning."
So he did. The young heir listened with apprehension as the pilot explained his wrong turn into the woods, the mansion, the talking candlesticks, and the demon, then with horror as he described his captivity and Yuffie's sacrifice. But he wasn't surprised. It did sound like Yuffie to give her freedom for someone else's.
"We've got to free her," he insisted, already formulating insane plans in his head.
"What, just you an' me?" Cid scoffed. "Can't see you pullin' off any heroics, what with that arm o' yours. What happened to it anyway?"
"I fell," Rufus explained dismissively. "Either way, we've got to do something. I'll go ask Tseng. He'll be able to come up with something." With that, he stood up and headed out the door, towards the tavern.
Please, be alright, Yuffie, he thought to himself. Please, be alright…
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Yuffie, being Yuffie, had taken quite some time to calm down. The furniture appeared to be fast asleep, judged by how the wardrobe was hunched over and murmuring quietly.
She had gotten some good reading time in (finally, a book that was interesting) when the footstool started growling loudly in its sleep. "Well," she muttered, "that's different."
Yuffie quietly stood up and made her way to the door. She had no delusions of escape. Some steak knife could see her and report to the demon. But she could leave her room. If she was going to live here for the rest of her life, she'd at least get to know the place. And the furniture. Plus, she really wanted to find a quiet place to read.
Outside stood three candles. She silently cursed. Great. How was she supposed to get out now?
"Hey!"
The princess looked down to find the black candle staring up at her with a grin. She smiled back tentatively. "Uh, hey yourself…"
"You should probably eat something, you know?" Yuffie was about to protest when he interrupted her. "No, I mean…well, he's not around right now, and there's a nice dinner downstairs, and we would really, really love if you didn't starve to death because we're not actually mean people or anything, we're actually really nice, even he's really nice when he tries, but he just pretends to be really mean 'cause he's got weird antisocial issues and–" he paused to take a deep breath. "Could you come eat, please?" He smiled hopefully.
Yuffie sighed. They really were nice furniture-people. "Fine," she grumbled.
"Yay!" The candle bounded over to his other two compatriots. "To the kitchen! Forward, march!" He hopped onward as Yuffie followed bemusedly.
The gold candle rolled his eyes. "Don't worry about him. He's always like that." He smiled politely. "I'm Cloud, by the way. That idiot over there is Zack. This is Sephiroth." He nodded to the silver candle beside him.
Yuffie laughed, impressed. "Wow, that's cool. You guys have the same names as the heroes of Nibelheim."
Cloud and Sephiroth exchanged glances. "Um, what?"
She jumped at a chance to display her new knowledge. "You know: when Nibelheim was almost overrun by armies from the north, the three heroes warded them off all on their own and forced their surrender."
Zack snorted derisively. "Where'd you get that? Seph's diary?"
Sephiroth glared. "It is a traveling log, Zackary."
Yuffie finally caught on. Her eyes widened in awe. "Holy shit, you guys are the heroes of Nibelheim!"
Zack cut off his argument to grin at her and bow. "At your service, ma'am!"
She laughed, but then frowned in confusion. "Um…then, uh…" She struggled for a respectful way to phrase her question and gestured vaguely in their direction. "Um…what happened?"
The three candles frowned at each other grimly. Zack was the first to pipe up. "Loooong story there. Definitely not one to tell in the middle of the hallway!" And with that, he hopped onward.
Yuffie followed and laughed as Zack and Cloud recounted the real story of the Nibelheim battle (who knew that an irritable dragon could cause so much damage?), but her thoughts were elsewhere. All the living furniture in the mansion was human at some point. Had the demon, then, also been human? Was he really not a demon at all? And, if so, how had he become the way he was?
What had happened here?
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"Holy shit, how do you guys make so much food?!"
The long dining table was creaking with the weight of the dishes it bore; there was food from every corner of the Planet, from the greasy, deep-fried fast food of Midgar to the spicy, exotic tastes of Wutai. Every course was laid out on the table, from simple, tasty appetizers to elaborate entrees to towering cakes and succulent desserts. The warm aromas mingled in the air and made Yuffie's mouth water. She ran to the table and vaulted into the purple armchair at the head of the table, but instantly jumped back up when it started gasping for breath.
"Please, young lady!" it wheezed. "Sit down gently!"
Yuffie muttered a shocked apology and turned to find another chair, but it called after her, "Now, I didn't say you couldn't sit! But please, don't tackle me now."
The princess sat slowly. "Better?"
The armchair nodded, which felt odd, as she was sitting in it. "Allow me to introduce myself. Reeve Tuesti, at your service, young lady."
She grinned. "Yuffie Kisaragi. Nice to meetcha!"
The three candlesticks vaulted themselves onto the table. Sephiroth instantly took charge, ordering a groggy knife and spork awake for her use. The spork nodded and hopped her way, the knife following slowly, grumbling about lost beauty sleep.
Eating with them was awkward at first, since Yuffie didn't want to grip them around their faces, but eventually, she found a good finger arrangement and began to devour food ravenously, making conversation with her utensils and chair between gulps.
The spork had introduced himself to be Angeal Hewley. He didn't talk too much, and she didn't listen that much anyway, but she did pick up the word "honor" more than once.
The knife, after running out of complaints about being woken up, introduced himself as Genesis Rhapsodos. He was a very flamboyant fellow, flirting with anyone within earshot and making dirty double entendres that he and Yuffie both laughed at.
Reeve, the armchair, turned out to be a very level-headed person with a strong sense of compassion for others. He shared his sympathy more than once for her captivity and insisted that she call on him should there be anything she needed.
All the while, as the plates moved themselves around based on what she asked to sample, furniture would walk, hop, or shuffle by before going about on their business, Cloud and Zack introducing them as they passed.
"The stove is Barret; he used to be a terrible cook, but he's had plenty of time to improve."
"That footstool's from your room. He's Nanaki, or Red XIII, he responds to both."
"That annoying black and white cushion with the Northern accent is Cait Sith. He's one of Reeve's pets, just ignore him."
"You've already met Shera and the kids, Marlene and Denzel, of course."
"Those silver feather dusters over there are Kadaj, Yazoo, and Loz. Their Seph's fan boys, so don't listen to anything they say."
"There's Kunsel, that hat stand."
"That blue vase is Luxiere. Can't even move, poor guy."
"There's Tifa; you've met her before too."
And so on, and so on until Yuffie met just about every piece of furniture in the mansion.
Finally, when she was full to bursting, the dishes whisked themselves into the tub, Reeve sleepily bade her farewell, all the furniture settled in their respective nooks for sleep, and Zack snored loudly as Cloud and Sephiroth engaged in a heated make-out session in the corner (disturbing, but strangely alluring), Yuffie yawned and headed back for her room.
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And promptly got lost.
"Crap," she muttered to herself as she found herself trying to choose between two hallways at the top of the stairs. She sighed, shutting her eyes and spinning around, randomly heading down the right hallway.
She found a window and peered out, trying to see the stars. "Northeast," she determined.
The demon's words came back to her with a jolt. Anywhere except the northeastern-most room…
Of course, that which killed the cat decided to rear its head fiercely. What was he hiding? Maybe the secret to the enchantment on the mansion was in there!
But even as her curiosity raged, she remembered fierce golden eyes, wicked claws, and huge, bat-like wings, and shuddered. Was it really worth going in there where that could be lurking?
Suddenly, unbidden, an image leapt into her mind: Cid Highwind, usually so proud and lively, shivering, sick, dying, and it steeled her resolve. She would not let him scare her into doing what she wanted. The Great Ninja Yuffie followed no orders!
With that thought, she slowly pushed open the door.
Her first impression was one of darkness. Though the hall was lit by sleeping candles, this room was lit only by the stars and the moon, which was hidden by a cloud outside the only window. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed the lack of furniture; the room was empty except for a nightstand by the window, a chair in the corner, and a bed against the wall.
It was to this bed that her eyes were drawn, not because of its elaborate canopy and shiny satin sheets, but because of the figure lying in it.
The demon was slightly curled on one side, facing the single window, wings spread out behind him. His face, which she had only seen contorted in silent rage, was now calm and peaceful in sleep. Without thinking, she drew closer.
At that moment, the cloud drew back, and the moonlight illuminated the demon's figure. Yuffie suddenly realized that if you looked past the twisted red spikes atop his head, the wicked claws, the crimson wings, and the cold, eerie tinge to his skin, the demon was almost…beautiful.
A soft, red glow came from the nightstand, and she whipped toward it. When she saw where it came from, she gasped.
A rose, fully bloomed, hovered over the nightstand under a glass dome. Its delicate petals glowed and shimmered in the moonlight, and she drew towards it as if in a trance. Not thinking about why or of any repercussions, she reached out to lift the glass dome.
What happened next happened in a blur. Her fingers had barely brushed the cold glass when there was a flurry of movement behind her and metallic claws gripped her wrists and yanked her away.
"What are you doing in here?" the demon growled. "I told you not to come here."
Yuffie's gentle thoughts were washed away in a sudden torrent of fury. "Why shouldn't I be in here? I was curious! I've got every right to be wherever I want in this place!" She sat down on the nightstand and folded her arms to make her point.
He growled fiercely. "Do not touch that."
She glared with equal ferocity. "What? Don't touch this?" She defiantly reached for the rose again.
Claws gripped her bare forearm tightly and jerked her away again, slicing through the skin and leaving shallow, bleeding cuts. Yuffie yanked her arm out of his grasp and inspected the wounds, not seeing the shock that flashed across the demons face as he stared at his hands, as if appalled that they could do such a thing. When she looked back at him, she was too furious to even consider his expression.
"Fuck you and fuck my promise!" she yelled. "I'm leaving!"
Yuffie tore out of the room, down the stairs, past three shocked candelabra, and out the door, into the cold, never hearing the apology that was called after her.
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As the demon stared after the princess in shock, a petal from the rose broke off, fluttering in a nonexistent wind as it fell slowly to the table's surface.
And so the third petal fell.
OMG, I AM ALIVE!
I am so sorry to all you people who are actually still reading this! I can't believe I made you all wait so long! But there was school, then there was school musical that I had to play in the pit orchestra for (which was, ironically, Beauty and the Beast), then there was summer and California, and there was Kyou Kara Maou, and I had to write something for that, and then there was summer school, then there was more school, and then there were these OMGAMAZING people who somehow found this story and reviewed and inspired me again! Many thanks to mallorymallibu of for bugging me and extracting a promise to have this up by Labor Day, and SO much love to SketchprinterDemon of for her beautiful, beautiful picture for this story! I have fanart! (Link on my profile!)
Lots and lots and LOTS of love!